


Until the Light

by ThisPolarNoise



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: (and she isn't too happy about the Machine), Canon divergence after The Crossing, Canon-Typical Violence, Carter Lives, F/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, accidentally posted the wrong chapter, deleted the WHOLE DAMN FIC, so this is a repost, tried to delete that chapter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-05
Updated: 2018-07-03
Packaged: 2019-01-30 00:52:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 13,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12642810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThisPolarNoise/pseuds/ThisPolarNoise
Summary: When she was taking down HR, Joss found help in the unlikeliest of places. Now that battle is finally over, she starts to find a different kind of comfort with a man who was once her enemy.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I accidentally deleted this, so this is a repost. Agh. Sorry about that.  
> -  
> I don't know why I'm writing this but here we are. It started off as a couple of missing scenes, then turned into a crackship, then I decided I was having too much fun writing it, and it turned into something longer.  
> Hope you enjoy reading it as much as I am writing it, and please drop me a comment if you get chance :D

Joss Carter walked into the diner half an hour later than she’d intended to, still in her uniform and wanting nothing more than to skip this meeting, go home and curl up in bed until her next shift. She’d hoped to get home before Taylor set off but he’d already be on his way to school by now, and no matter how much she thought about it she couldn't help miss the day shift when she’d had time to take her son out for breakfast occasionally. Instead Joss had had a long night chasing down a suspect before it had overrun, and her already demotion-damaged bullshit tolerance hadn’t been helped by having to work under some cocky SOB of a vice detective who never should have been promoted as far as he had been. Naturally it was her fault the suspect had got away when he’d been too busy on his cell to cover his end of the alley, and he’d spent a good half hour chewing her out about it after she’d already stayed two after her shift was over on goodwill alone. It had taken all her remaining patience not to deck him there and then. Worst part was, she was pretty sure this detective wasn’t even crooked, which meant someone higher up actually thought he’d be good at this job.

  
She’d already moved the meeting from Elias’s basement… sorry, safehouse to here despite their agreement, though, so she wouldn’t have to drive miles out of her way to collect some info she’d asked for on a HR cop she’d been following. She couldn’t just cancel after all that. Elias might have been willing to help her for the moment, but he never did anything without getting something back, and even if he said the combination of her saving his life and working so hard to bring down the organisations that had ordered him killed was more than enough, she still remembered all too well what he’d done to John and Leila when he hadn’t been getting what he wanted.

  
There was no sign of anyone she recognised in the diner, and while that was maybe something to be thankful for (it meant she’d definitely shaken the guys HR had sent as a tail, even tired as she was), there was also no sign of Elias or any of his guys. With the night she’d been having, it would have been just about right for her best (and only) source to have gotten himself re-arrested or worse on the way to meet her. Hell, he might just have given up on waiting and already left.

  
Joss sat down in a booth anyway and rubbed her temples. The diner was busy but not one she usually stopped by. She doubted anyone would recognise her or whoever showed up. Most of the people seemed too engrossed in their morning coffee anyway.

  
“This seat taken?” A voice asked just behind her, and Joss barely stopped herself from jumping.

  
She looked up to see Marconi, the guy she’d just known as Scarface until recently, sliding into the booth across the table from her, looking more awake and upbeat than anyone who worked all night had any right to be before noon. She swore he hadn’t been there when she walked in but there he was, giving her that usual smug look.  
She ignored it, skipping the small talk. “Where’s Elias?”

  
“Keeping a low profile, Officer.” He grinned, and she rolled her eyes at him throwing her own words back at her.

  
“You get what I asked for?”

  
His expression turned more businesslike as he took a slim file out of his leather jacket and pushed it across the table inside a menu. “Think I’d be here if I didn’t?”

  
Joss flicked through it quickly. It had everything she needed and more; phone calls, surveillance photos, even account details and other things Fusco couldn’t get a warrant for and she didn’t want to even ask Finch about. Elias was a good source, even if he wouldn’t keep doing all this for her free forever. She was determined to get as much out of him to help her bring down HR as possible before he decided they were even and became enemies again.

  
The waitress finally approached their table just as she’d finished checking it and she slipped the file into her own jacket as the woman approached.

  
“What d’you want?” she asked, looking and sounding pretty much how Joss felt.

  
“Coffee.” Carter said before the other woman had even finished speaking.

  
Marconi raised an eyebrow at her, not hiding his amusement. “Same.”

  
Neither of them spoke again until the waitress came back with their drinks then disappeared back behind the counter, then he turned back to her.

  
“Long night, Officer?”

  
“Not like you care, but yeah.”

The smirk didn’t waver, but he finally seemed to give up on the small talk. She couldn’t deal with that, not right now, not from him. “You need anything else on this guy?”

“Doubt it. Looks like you covered it all.”

“He ain’t that high up in HR.” He said it as a casual observation but she could feel his curiosity into her investigation.

“He was at the academy with Patrick Simmons,” she admitted. “If I can get him on something else, maybe it’ll spook some of the guys further up into making a mistake.”

He nodded, and she didn’t think she misread a slight glint of approval in his eyes. Of course, he was probably more used to killing people to get that kind of result, and maybe he still would. She didn’t mention that she knew the cop in question had been directly involved in Cal’s death. If he turned up in a ditch somewhere, she wouldn’t be too broken up about it, even if she wanted to get as much of this as possible done legally. Marconi would probably know all that anyway if he’d read the file.

He glanced over her shoulder, looking outside for a second and narrowed his eyes, and when he spoke again he was quieter. “You sure you skipped your tail, Officer?”

“Yeah,” Joss rubbed her eyes. It had taken a while, but no-one had been following her by the time she got here. “All three of ‘em.”

“Someone caught up. Couple HR rookies out in the parking lot.”

She cursed under her breath, forcing herself not to turn. “They must have bugged my car again. I thought I’d got it.”

“Don’t look like they’re going to come in.”

“Not surprised. They might have to drink some of this terrible coffee.” She tried to keep her tone light but didn’t quite succeed.

His lips twitched up, but the expression didn’t reach his eyes this time. “We could do something about ‘em?”

She sighed, taking another sip of her coffee and trying not to wince. “I can deal with them. Unless we leave together it’ll just look like I stopped for breakfast on my way home.”

Marconi hesitated, then nodded. He stood up, leaving enough money for both their drinks on the table.

“My treat,” he said with another quick smirk, then headed out through the fire exit at the back of the diner, leaving Joss to wonder if letting him pay for something this bad still counted as accepting a bribe.


	2. Chapter 2

She was getting close now, she could feel it. Joss hadn’t found out about Quinn and the real heights of HR under ideal circumstances to say the least, stood over the bodies of two other cops, no matter how crooked, but now she had that, all that was left was to finalise her plan to take them down. If she played her cards right now, she reckoned she could topple both HR and the Russians with one well-aimed swipe, use one against the other and destroy both. There were only a few last things to clear up, files to hide and favours to call in, before she could put everything she’d learnt over the last few months into play.

Unfortunately, she wasn’t the only one who could feel something stirring. It wasn’t just HR’s nerves running high over their increasingly unsteady partnership with the Bratva and all their recent losses, her reluctant ally on that side of the law knew something was about to go down too, like a shark tasting that first drops of blood in the water.  
She’d only come to Elias to ask him for one last thing and she’d rather not have done this in person at all, but even with the burner phone she’d picked up she wasn’t sure she wanted to share such an important part of her plan like that, and she had to give him the file anyway. She knew Finch (or whatever source he was trying so hard to hide) would be listening. That’s why she’d left her phone in her car.

Joss hadn’t told Elias anything about what she was going to do aside from giving him the file on Yogarov, dismissing it as just another step in her plan, but he knew. Of course he did. Maybe Joss wasn’t as good a liar as she thought or maybe he could just feel the change in the air, even from down here. He hadn’t mentioned it beyond a casual reminder that he could just kill them, but those glances he’d kept shooting her spoke louder than words. He seemed, ha, concerned almost, like he wanted to ask and it was only that twisted etiquette of his keeping him from getting involved whether she wanted him there or not.

She’d heard him talking to Terney and Yogarov about revenge, back in the woods what felt like a lifetime ago, that it was fine for Yogarov to kill him because Elias had taken someone from him. Maybe this was the same in his eyes; HR had taken someone Joss cared about, so it was her right to destroy the men responsible. Then again, it was probably nothing so noble, just easier to let someone else get their hands dirty this time, no matter how often he and everyone else offered to help. It wasn’t like they were friends, after all, and only allies through some warped series of debts and favours she’d lost track of along the way. Elias had definitely kept track, and saving his life could only go so far.

He watched her carefully as she stood up to leave. “If you need anything else, you know where we are, officer.”

Joss nodded, hoping she wouldn’t and that this shady part of her life was finally over, but knowing she’d need his help at least one last time to hook the Russians. She thanked him for the wine and turned, footsteps echoing on across the room as she left. Joss turned for a second when she reached the door but he hadn’t moved, just stayed at the table, watching her with an unreadable expression.

There were no guards in the corridor outside, Elias always sent them further away when he knew she was coming, just Marconi leaning against one wall, hands deep in his pockets, no doubt sulking from when Elias had sent him out. He watched her as she started walking past, not even trying to hide it, but with a little more of a thoughtful look than the usual leer. It took until she was halfway towards the exit for him to speak.

“Carter.”

She ignored him, still heading for the door, but he caught her elbow.

“Joss.”

She whirled around and he took a step back, guard going up immediately like he thought she was going to lash out. He’d overstepped his boundaries and they both knew it.

“I know you wanna do this alone. The Boss respects that, but…” He hesitated.

“You don’t.”

Marconi shrugged, but there was concern in his eyes. “I seen enough guys go off on revenge missions to know when it’s gonna get the wrong people killed. He might be okay with that. I’m not.”

“It won’t,” she said through gritted teeth.

He frowned, not convinced. “You’re not alone, Carter. Even if you don’t want to call us for help, you got Reese or that old partner of yours.”

“Why do you care? You only owe me for saving his ass,” she gestured back at the room where she’d left Elias. “But you’ve given me more than enough.”

“All the information? That’s on the Boss. I always preferred getting more hands on,” he smirked, but she kept glaring until he exhaled in what was almost a sigh and broke eye contact. “I like you, Carter. Don’t like many people, especially not cops. The world needs people like you.”

Joss couldn’t see anything dishonest in his expression but it wasn’t like he wasn’t a good liar. He’d convinced her he was a cop once. “I don’t need your help.”

He shrugged again, not arguing, but held out a scrap of paper with a number written on it in surprisingly neat handwriting. “My number. Case you change your mind.”

They stared at each other for a long few seconds, neither moving. That weirdly earnest expression didn’t drop like she’d expected it to, and this time Carter backed down first, snatching the paper out of his hand and turning on her heel back towards the door.

He didn’t try to stop her this time, just called out “take care of yourself, Officer,” behind her.

A couple of Elias’s bodyguards gave her the usual suspicious looks as she stalked out of the building, watching her closely as she got in the car even though they must have seen her there at least a couple of times. She was still the one who’d got their boss locked up, and it wasn’t like either of them were exactly open books about what had happened out in the woods that night. There was probably only one other person who knew what actually went down, and that was Marconi.

She re-examined at the piece of paper he’d given her. Just a number scrawled on the back of a receipt for a can of soda and a pack of cigarettes from a gas station around the corner, nothing else.

Seemed like they’d moved away from him obviously and unashamedly checking out her ass when she came to ask favours from Elias. She didn’t trust him, never could; she knew that at one word from his boss they’d go back to the way it had been, just another cop and criminal, but for now at least, the world had changed.

She typed his number and initials into her phone and hit save before she could change her mind, screwing up the paper and stuffing it deep into her jacket pocket.

Maybe he was right. This was war. Maybe she would need someone to call when this all reached the next level, and Marconi had been fighting this battle all his life. She didn’t have to trust him or even like him, she just knew that he had just as much reason to hate HR as she did. When the time came, that just might be enough.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is mostly rewrites of canon scenes from 3.09: The Crossing.  
> Anything you recognise, I didn't write. Scenes that stay the same are skipped. Thanks for reading!

It was taking her too long to get back to her old desk at the Eighth.

Between the months of tracking down every lead against HR she could get, the weeks of putting together a plan and putting it into play and finally the hours of FBI debrief that morning after they’d told her she could have her old job back had felt more like a lifetime than just a year. She’d even started to miss the stale coffee and late nights.

Finally heading back up the steps to the precinct to the job she’d always loved felt like victory, like what she’d achieved had actually started to sink in.

“Congratulations, Detective!” Finch’s voice called out behind her, and she turned to face him as he added “It is detective again, isn’t it?”

“Can’t say I miss the uniform.” She smiled back.

“It seems John Doe is being held at the Third Precinct, my lawyers are trying to extricate him.”

Well, it wasn’t like Finch ever held back when he wanted something, she guessed, and his concern for John was obvious. He always seemed to be worried about whatever John had been up to lately, but today, with half the cells in the city filling up with HR cops, it was probably justified.

“Let’s just hope John can stay out of trouble for a long while,” Carter said, rolling her eyes, totally unconvinced John would be able to stay out of trouble for more than about ten seconds, not that Finch ever exactly helped with that. “Or have you got other plans for him?”

“Our work never ends.” Finch said with a slight smile.

“I know that, I am a detective,” her phone started to ring, and she looked at him before taking it out of her jacket. “Speaking of which, duty calls. I’ll drop by the Third, make sure our friend gets released.”

“I’ll appreciate that, Joss.” Finch said, seeming pleased she didn’t object to his experimental use of her first name, starting to turn as she checked her phone. Fusco calling, probably to tell her he wouldn’t be in till later; she knew he wanted to spend some time with his son before getting back to everything else. She could call him back in a second.

“Finch!”

He turned back round, leaning to one side slightly in curiosity.

“I wanted to thank you.”

“Oh?” the smile that formed on his face seemed slightly confused. “What for?”

“You and John offered to help every step of the way with this, and I turned you down. You didn’t have to come through for me when I admitted I was out of my depth. I should have let you help from the start.”

“We all have things we need to deal with ourselves, Detective. Myself and Mr Reese probably understand that better than most,” he said carefully, and Joss remembered the house in New Rochelle. She wondered what Finch had had to ‘deal with’. “I’ll be in touch.”

“I’ll let you know when John’s out.”

He nodded stiffly, and turned to leave again. This time she didn’t stop him.

 

-

 

They smiled at each other as they had that same conversation they’d had the first time they’d met, word for word, a private joke no-one else would understand, this time without the fingerprints. Neither of them mentioned the kiss back in the morgue, not in the precinct, not as they were finally leaving. Stress and fear made people do funny things, they both knew that. Neither of them had known if they’d make it out alive, and in a time like that people always looked for companionship wherever they could. Still, somehow, it didn’t seem awkward either, conversation coming easier than since before Joss had been demoted. It felt more like both of them had realised that wasn’t what they truly wanted, and could move on. Better to get that out now than somewhere down the line when those feelings had been bottled up so long neither of them would know that it could never work out.

“Got your men locked up, Carter,” John said with a smile as they stepped into the night. “Must feel good.”

“Not all of em, still haven’t been able to locate our pal Simmons.” She said, brushing off the compliment despite the pride in her chest.

“He can’t hide forever, we’ll find him.” And from John, a statement like that sounded more like a promise than a hollow reassurance.

If Simmons was smart, he’d be long gone by now, putting some of that dirty money to good use, but that seemed unlikely. She didn’t think he had the brains or the guts to stay and try and rebuild what HR had lost from the shadows, but they hadn’t received any credible tips about him trying to leave the city yet either. She did her best to push Simmons out of her mind. It was all so close to being closed and over, and her relief at being able to see the end was more than she could ever have imagined. She had time now, time to think, time to breathe, without having to worry anyone else would get killed.

She handed John the belongings they’d taken off him in holding.

“Alright, where’s my weapon?”

“John Doe didn’t have a permit,” she laughed, stopping to look up at him. “Your gun’s property of the NYPD now.”

John shrugged, a mild acknowledgement that she couldn’t do much about that. It wasn’t like anyone was going to be shooting at him between now and when he got back to the rest of his armoury, anyway. “Time I got some new hardware.”

One of these days, Joss considered as she watched a car pull up on the other side of the street, she was going to have to look into how easily he seemed to acquire all his firearms, for now though…

“Looks like your ride is here,” she said, nodding over at Finch as he got out. “Guess we were all worried about you.”

The way John’s face lit up when he saw his boss reminded Joss of the other reason they wouldn’t have worked out. No matter what they could have had, she knew exactly where John’s heart was, even if he didn’t.

The ring of the payphone across the road dragged her out of those thoughts. Finch paused halfway across the road to face it, then-

“Your time’s up! Told you I’d end you!” The voice echoed down what she had taken for an empty street. Simmons.

It all happened in under a minute. She started to turn, drawing her gun but hearing the shots before it was even out of the holster. She expected to feel a bullet burning through her, or see John start to fold out of the corner of her eye, but Simmons was the one who hit the floor, looking more confused than in pain.

Stood behind where Simmons had collapsed, gun still raised and a furious expression like none she’d ever seen on him before was Anthony Marconi. He swallowed, suppressing all that anger into a sneer that he aimed down at Simmons as he kicked the fallen gun away. Simmons barely twitched, taking choking breaths that told anyone who’d seen a wound like that before that he wouldn’t last, even if they did get him to a hospital. Marconi didn’t look up, focused entirely on Simmons. Despite everything, Simmons started reaching for his fallen gun again, like he was determined to take at least one of them down with him, but Marconi ground a heel down on his hand, not hiding his satisfaction at the dying man’s wince. It was only another few seconds before he stopped moving completely.

Marconi was the first to speak, finally meeting her eyes, seeming to be trying to measure her reaction to what he’d done.

“You lose something, Detective?” There was no levity in his tone, none of that casual sarcasm she’d come to expect, this was real business not just another meeting. After months of him just being kind of a pain in her ass, she remembered why she’d seen him as such a threat at the beginning.

She swallowed, hard. “I think you found him.”

“You’re welcome.”

She glanced at John, still stood next to her, entire body tensed and fists clenched till his knuckles were white. Without his gun he’d been powerless, and he knew it. If Anthony hadn’t turned up when he did, at least one of them would be dead on the pavement, not Simmons.

“John?” she said gently.

He finally snapped out of it, looking down at her.

“You wanna go inside and tell someone about this?”

He gave her a terse nod and turned on his heel back the way they’d come. She waited until she heard the door close before she turned back to Marconi.

“You killed him.”

A shrug, no reply. She’d never known him to exactly be chatty.

“Who were you following? Him or me?”

He kicked Simmons’ body, and when he spoke his voice was practically a growl. “Took me this long to find the son of a bitch.”

She hesitated for a second. The hand that had been going for the cuffs on her belt paused, even though, if she was any judge, he wouldn’t have resisted arrest. Oh god, she was really going to do this.

“Go.”

“What?”

“Go on, get out of here, before anyone else shows up. Tell Elias we’re even.”

Anthony nodded and grinned at her, tucking his gun in the back of his pants beneath his leather jacket and heading down the street, back to wherever he’d followed Simmons from. She wasn’t sure from where she was stood, with the sound of the phone still ringing and the constant background noise of the city, but she could swear she heard him whistling softly as he walked away.

Finch finally unfroze from his spot in the middle of the road as the phone abruptly stopped mid-ring, and joined her on the sidewalk. “That seems like something you might regret later.”

“Maybe.” Joss said, even though she didn’t quite agree. It was true that she was even with Elias now, which part of her regretted, but she didn’t feel half as guilty watching him walk away as she knew she should.


	4. Chapter 4

Waking up the next morning was like the first breath of fresh air after months of drowning. She hadn’t got home as late as she’d thought she would and, for the first time since Cal had been killed, she slept easily, with no nightmares waking her up shaking every time she managed to fall asleep.

They’d all got out of reporting what they’d witnessed, that Simmons had come after her and one of Elias’s men, naming no names and giving away no obvious physical details, faster than she’d expected. She knew at least one of the Internal Affairs guys thought she was somehow responsible, but after the week the NYPD had had, they weren’t pressing too hard. What Simmons had done as HR’s second in command would damage the department’s reputation for years to come. Some random henchman of a rival gang leader was an easy target to pin the blame on, and the case would probably be put to the bottom of someone’s files down in Organised Crime.

Joss had put off thinking about what would happen after her pursuit of HR was over. She guessed part of her felt like there wouldn’t even be an after, but here she was, alive. She had a lot to think about; Taylor and Paul, her promotion back to the task force, her work with John, Finch and Shaw, whether Elias would go back to being a threat to her now their mutual enemy was gone or if their relationship would still be something else, a weird exchange of favours and information in shady back rooms. Either way, it was one of the hundred of things that went through her head as she filled in the seemingly endless stack of paperwork for the HR investigation, physical and digital. They never told you how much of police work was filling in forms, back in the academy.

Fusco, back at work but stuck at his desk until some of the injuries he’d picked up from Simmons and his boys healed up, was sat at his desk doing the same as she was, probably with the cases he’d closed while she was gone. Occasionally, they caught each other’s eye and grinned like kids in detention. Soon they’d be back out solving cases, both for the NYPD and Finch, and everything would finally feel right again. It wasn’t like they hadn’t had their disagreements over the time they’d worked together, but she’d missed him when she’d been back in uniform. Even the endless driving around between minor disturbances would have been more interesting with a partner she could trust, a friend.

It was a while before Fusco finally looked up again. “You heard from our mutual friends today?”

“Not since we got out of giving our statements last night. You?”

Fusco shook his head. “They’re too quiet. I don’t like it.”

Carter looked at him, doing her best not to roll her eyes but not quite succeeding. Fusco was never satisfied; when they called he always bitched about having a day job, now it had been a few hours without Finch or John bothering them he was bitching about that instead.

“C’mon, partner. When’s the last time something like last night happened and Glasses didn’t at least call the next day to check up on you?”

“Good point,” Joss frowned. Okay, she had to give him that; Finch did seem to turn into a mother hen when they got closer to getting shot than usual. “Maybe they just haven’t been given anyone to help.”

“With the NYPD stretched thin as it is? Not a chance,” he obviously noticed the change in her expression, however slight, and grinned. “So, you wanna call them, or should I?

She rolled her eyes and picked her phone up off her desk. “What, you scared, Fusco?”

“Don’t want a chewing out from Finch. I wasn’t there to help you guys last night, even if I was with Lee. He doesn’t seem to get that I got a life outside running errands for them,”

“Yeah, join the club,” she muttered as the phone connected.

Finch picked up barely a second after the first ring, as always, but his tone was even more clipped than usual. “Detective. What do you want?”

Joss glanced over at Fusco and rolled her eyes. “I’m fine, Finch, thanks for asking. How are you?”

“We’re fine, Detective. Just… a little busy.” She could practically hear him narrowing his eyes over the phone. For all his secrets, once you knew him for a while Finch could be a pretty terrible liar.

“Anything we can do to help out?”

“We’re fine for now, but thank you for the offer.”

“You sure? Fusco’s getting worried,” she grinned across her desk at him when he flipped her off.

“Absolutely sure. I’ll be in contact if anything comes up we might need you for.” Finch said, then hung up without another word.

After three years of knowing the boys, if there was anything that made her suspect they were up to something, it was John or Finch telling her everything was fine, but it wasn’t like she could arrest someone under Suspicion Of Doing Something She Disapproved Off. Even if their activities turned out to be more illegal than usual, it had been enough of pain getting John out of jail the last two times.

Fusco snapped her away from her thoughts with a “So?”

“Said they were just busy. I guess now they got Shaw, they don’t need us so much.”

Fusco snorted. “Yeah? Bet they’re having the time of their lives without us.”

“Guess we’ll find out when the call comes in that they blew something up.”

Fusco smirked again and, aside for a few other remarks and requests for coffee, they barely spoke for the rest of the afternoon. By the time the end of Joss’s shift came, she was practically itching to get away from her desk, even after the fight she’d had to get it back. She’d barely moved all day aside from picking up some other files and occasionally getting up to grab them both another coffee.

She and Fusco left together, said goodnight and went their separate ways. He was looking forward to getting back home to Lee after everything that had happened in the last few days, she knew. Joss would be going home to an empty house; Taylor was still at Paul’s and there was no need to worry them by showing up or calling again. She’d spoken to them both after bringing in Quinn, and she was bound to get even more of their fussing tomorrow when she went to pick Taylor up, and that was without them even knowing about how close Simmons had got to shooting her, something she’d do her best to make sure neither of them ever found out.


	5. Chapter 5

No matter what everyone told him, part of Leon had still though that being a private investigator would be more glamorous. Y'know, more long coats and fedoras and beautiful women with nowhere else left to turn, less missing pets and losers who thought their spouses were cheating on them (and if they were, who'd blame them?).

Okay, he'd bought the coat and the fedora, but it hadn't taken him long to work out the hat made him look like kind of a dumbass. At least the coat wasn't too bad.

It wasn't to say he didn't enjoy the job, it was just that when he'd been scamming people, he'd been able to pay the rent. Of course, there was the benefit that lost pets and adultery rarely pissed people off enough to go after him, just each other. They paid the bill, he gave them to number of a divorce lawyer he knew, then called the cops if it looked like it was going to turn violent. This was the first time he'd been tied to a chair in the year since he'd started this job.

Ah, yeah, back to his current situation.

Crazy husband of one of his clients who'd knocked him unconscious on his way out of his office, dragged him back in and tied him to his desk chair, currently stood in front of Leon, rambling on about how ‘everything was going fine before he started meddling’. Leon had taken some photos of the guy in some incriminating positions and handed them to his furious wife a week ago, but instead of realising he'd got himself into this situation, this idiot had decided to blame Leon. He'd be pissed if he wasn't terrified by the gun the guy was waving in his face.

“Look, man, it wasn't my fault. Your wife suspected something and she paid me to see what you were up to-”

“You took those photos?!”

Shit, wrong choice of words there. It wasn't like he'd enjoyed taking photos of the guy’s surprisingly hairy ass with his new girlfriend. God, how had this guy ever got two women when Leon couldn't even get one?

He finally finished his rant and Leon cowered back in his chair, screwing his eyes shut as the barrel of the gun was pressed against his forehead. Looked like John really hadn't been kidding about being on vacation the next time he needed help.

The was a slight  _ click _ , the door opening, not a trigger being pulled, then a voice, female and painfully familiar said “This guy? You've got to be kidding me, Finch.”

The gun was moved away from Leon’s head, and he finally dared to open one eye a crack.

There she was, the crazy woman John and Finch had him pick up in an ambulance last year. The one he'd filled with enough sedative to knock out a horse after she'd tried to kill him on the way to that cemetery, only it sounded like they were working together now.

The guy turned to face her, but the  gun stayed pointed at him.

“Look, I'm sure Leon here deserves whatever you've got coming to him, but I’ve got a friend who likes him,” she said, taking a step towards them, one hand behind her back. “You wouldn't get away with it anyway.”

“No?”

“Using your own gun to kill the guy your wife used to find you cheating? That's just sloppy. You really want to spend the next twenty years in jail over this guy?”

“Hey!”

Shaw shot him a look and he sank back in his chair again.

The man seemed to consider that for a long minute, then turned the gun on Shaw. She just looked at him like he was a brat having a tantrum. Her hand shot out from behind her back with her own gun and fired twice, one into each of the guy’s kneecaps.

“Next time you try something like this you might wanna take the safety off,” she said, still unimpressed, putting her gun away and taking a knife from her jacket to slice through the zip-ties around his wrists. “Cops are on their way. You're coming with me, Leon.”

 

-

 

He wished this wasn't so familiar, being forced into the library with a bag over his head and told by Finch (again) not to touch his equipment, but Leon had never been a lucky guy. He thought his luck had finally changed with his career, but nope. He didn’t even want to think about the questions the cops were gonna ask him about the guy who’d been shot in his office when someone finally let him out of the library.

John and Finch didn't pay much attention to him, having a conversation Leon only half heard with Shaw still glaring daggers at him.

“So you're leaving?” he glanced nervously over at her and hoping she was going with them.

“We've got a plane to catch,” Reese shrugged. “Try and stay out of trouble till we get back.”

“Really? What trouble can I get in  _ here _ ?”

The three of them shared a look, and Finch narrowed his eyes slightly, some unspoken conversation going on over Leon’s head.

“Just do what you're told, Leon.” John shrugged as he turned to leave.

He waited a few minutes after the metal gate had been slammed shut and the footsteps had faded, then stood up from the chair shaw had slammed him down in and wandered over to the nearest bookshelves, trailing his hand across the spines as he scanned the titles for something interesting. Before the first time he’d been locked up in here, Leon hadn’t known it was possible to own so many books without a single one of them sounding even remotely interesting.Maybe he should go looking for that law book Finch had given him then, that could be helpful for his business, even if he just took it and put it on the shelf above his desk. Or it could help his legal defence if the guy Shaw had shot pressed charges against him.

He made his way through the shelves mostly aimlessly (when he got out of here he was gonna have to get checked for a concussion or something), when he reached the cell. He guessed when the library was still a library, not… whatever the hell it was now, they'd probably used it for storage or to keep the most expensive books so they didn't get stolen, but it looked like John and Finch had re-purposed it as a cell. There was a sofa and a blanket in there that looked like it had been slept on, and a table with a couple of empty paper bags and a plate on it, the remains of someone’s last meal in there, and a lock on the door. Leon wondered if they planned to lock him up in there later.   


“You’re new.”   


Leon jumped.   


There was a woman sat on the window sill the other side of the cage, reading. Leon blinked. They hadn’t told him anyone else was in here, and for a moment he thought his eyes might have been playing tricks on him. He’d been having kind of a traumatic day, and the crazy guy had hit him in the head pretty hard, but she was still there when he opened his eyes.   


“Uh. Hi?”   


The woman put the book down and stood up, tilting her head slightly as she walked towards him. “So they locked you up in here too?”   


“Yeah. It’s not the first time. I’m Leon.”   


“Root,” she took another step towards the bars and let her fingers rest in the gaps in the cage. “They let me out into the library yesterday, but I guess they got another person to help this morning.”   


“You want me to let you out?” He’d never been one to ignore a lady in distress, not that it had really worked out for him so far, always just seeming to get either himself or her in even more trouble.   


She smiled at him. “If you don’t mind. The key’s on Harry’s desk.”   


Leon nodded and went to get it.   


Root’s shoulders seemed to straighten as she walked out of the cell, and Leon followed her back into the main part of the library, sitting at the desk again while Root knelt down to look in one of the cupboards under a bookshelf.   


“So why’d they lock you up in there? You touch Finch’s computer?”   


She straightened up, a heavy gym bag that clanked when she moved in one hand, and a gun in the other. She smiled at him, tilting her head, “You could say that, but they probably locked me up because I kidnapped Harry and Shaw and kept trying to kill them.”   


Oh shit. Oh, he’d really fucked up this time. If she let him live (which, a voice in the back of his head supplied, wasn’t likely looking at the gun), John was gonna kill him himself.   


“Guess it's probably too late to ask you to go back in the cage, huh?”   


She smiled at him, clicking the safety off on the gun. “Probably.”   


The cellphone on the desk started ringing and Root went to pick it up. She listened quietly for a second and smiled. “Whatever you say, sweetie. Change of plan, Leon, you're going in the cage.”   


He frowned but nodded, head sinking to his chest as he walked ahead of her towards the metal door. She locked it behind him.   


“Can you at least leave me a bag of chips or something? I skipped breakfast.”   


Root smiled at him, and damn, how did he miss how scary that look was, “I’d love to, but we’re in kind of a hurry. John’ll be here in five minutes when you don’t pick up. I’ll be seeing you again soon, Leon.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I'm honestly sick of looking at this chapter, so while it's been spellchecked etc, this hasn't been rewritten like the others had. Apologies for any more OOC-ness that usual.  
> (Mistakenly thought 4C came before Lethe/Aletheia not the other way around, so let’s pretend it does in this ‘verse haha)

It had been a long few weeks work for Anthony. He’d spent most of the time he'd had since HR had been taken down reminding people who'd slipped astray in the Boss’s absence who they were back to answering to and renegotiating contracts with groups who'd been in business with the cops and the Russians. It wasn't necessarily bad work if you remembered to keep a couple of clean shirts in the car (and he'd been in this business long enough to always do that anyway), just a little repetitive; mostly he’d been standing behind Carl as he threatened people with that almost-pleasant smile, only there to deter the other party from doing anything… reckless, and the few solo jobs with less important people were pretty much him and a couple of his guys doing the same, with force if necessary. The only real problem was that his shoulder still ached when he did too much, lingering damage from when he’d been shot by HR last year, and he'd definitely managed to do too much recently. It wasn't too bad now, but he knew he'd have to be more careful. He was better off leaving the gentle reminders that involved a baseball bat to someone else for now.

Still, seemed like the local crews were finally getting the idea. The real problem now was the outsiders, and a place like New York drew a lot of them.

The asshole he was currently tailing, for example, some European bastard who did jobs all around the world. Someone had recognised him from some other job and ratted him out to them. Anthony had tracked him to a bar on Pearl Street earlier that week, The Purloined Letter, taken a seat at the table closest to where he’d sat, and ordered a couple of drinks while he listened to the guy and a woman talk shop until she left and he started to talk over the phone in Czech. Rinse, repeat the next night, and the next, when she handed him a stolen painting and they spoke about the next job. The guy, Cyril, seemed like a Class A scumbag; didn’t do any of his own dirty work, and whoever the woman was, he had something on her to stop her from quitting.

Cyril turned up the usual time that night and Anthony was already there waiting for him at the bar. Anthony wasn’t sure what this big, priceless job was yet, but the plan was to follow him when he left, dispose of him and take it. He was half an hour into the guy nursing a glass of red Cyril probably thought made him look sophisticated but, having looked at the wine list, Anthony knew was more like vinegar, when he felt someone lingering over his shoulder.

“I should arrest you right here.”

He looked up.

Carter was stood behind him, but stepped to his side when he saw her.

“What’s the problem, Detective? There's nothing illegal about going out for a drink.”

“With a concealed weapon?”

“Could say the same about you. That don’t look department issue,” he grinned as she adjusted her jacket over the gun in her shoulder holster.

She didn't look half as amused. “Why are you here, Marconi?”

“Guy over there? He’s about to pull off his second heist this week, but he didn't ask our permission or offer a cut, so the Boss sent me to deal with him. Turns out he’s planning another,” he watched her narrow her eyes and smirked. “Don't look so worried, Detective. I just wanna have a talk with him.” If Reese was involved in this too, and he usually was when it came to crap like this, it was unlikely he’d even get that far before someone started shooting. No good mentioning to a cop that he planned to kill the bastard.

He glanced behind her. “Sit down.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Why?”

“He's lookin’ at us. You don't sit, he’ll know we’re up to something.”

She narrowed her eyes, but sat down next to him. He tried not to look too smug.

“You want a drink or something?”

“I’m working.”

“Not on the clock, though, right?” he gestured to the kid behind the bar with two fingers and turned back to Carter as started pouring their drinks. “Relax, Carter. He ain’t going anywhere yet, he’s been here for a good half hour.”

“What’s he saying?”

“I look like I speak Czech to you?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Fair point.”

“So, why are you here? Guessing it has something to do with Reese.”

She rolled her eyes. “It always does.”

“Don’t say that, you’ll break my heart,” he said with mock sincerity, and grinned when she swatted him on the arm. “If this was anything to do with us, you’d just call the Boss, right?”

She shrugged. “Covering all the bases with one of John and Finch’s jobs. Your guy is involved.”

“That mean I get to go home?”

“Not until you’ve paid for these,” she raised an eyebrow as the bartender put the beers he’d ordered on the bar in front of them.

He passed the bartender some money but didn't start to move.

Carter took a sip from the glass closest to her and looked over at him. “Shouldn't you be leaving?”

“That'd be a waste of beer.”

“Fine, stay, just don't get in my way if anything goes down.”

“Wouldn't dream of it, Detective,” he said, giving her his most innocent smile. She just rolled her eyes at him and turned back to her drink.

“Since when did Elias start sending his right hand man to tail somebody, anyway?” Carter said after a while, trying to fill the silence.

“Don't know if you've noticed, but there’ve been some pretty big changes to the city lately. Takes a while to get everything under control again.”

“So what, you're understaffed?” she laughed.

“Just busy,” he shrugged and raised his glass to his lips again, glancing across the bar at their mutual target.

It was getting to the sort of time most bars would be getting full, or at least have more than just the two of them, their target and about eight others. Cyril had probably picked this place for that exact reason, but if anything, it made him stand out more. The problem was, that also worked in reverse; they'd be more obvious too if they were looking at him too long. Thankfully, they didn't have much time to wait.

Cyril picked up his phone and held it to his ear, speaking in English this time. “How did it go?” his casual expression turned furious in a split second. “Excuse me, for a moment I thought you said you didn’t get it.”

Anthony turned and grinned at her. “Sounds like your work is done for the night.”

“You’re kidding, right? I’ve gotta do all the paperwork when we arrest these guys.”

“You could always let me deal with them.”

“I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that,” Joss muttered, starting to stand up. She finished her drink and reached for her handcuffs.

“...My associates in Prague don’t take kindly to people who welch on their debt, let me remind you.”

“Mommy? Is that you?”

Anthony's stool scraped back and his shoes hit the floor before he even knew what he was doing, one hand reaching inside his jacket for his gun until Carter clamped a hand around his arm. She dragged him to the door, not letting go until he pushed her away when they were in the street outside.

“That was a fucking kid, Carter!” he growled. “He's got her kid!”

“What d’you care? You didn’t seem to have a problem with kidnapping kids when you took Taylor.”

“That was just a threat, I wouldn’t have let anything happen to him. I don’t hurt kids, Carter.” Anything to prevent someone else going through even a fraction of what he had until he’d taken his life into his own hands, and god knows he wouldn’t inflict that on anyone else either. “That’s why I took him, didn’t just leave it to one of the other bastards.  _ I wouldn’t do that _ .”

“What d’you think is gonna happen if you go back in there and finish what you came out to do? God knows where they’re keeping her or if his accomplices are expecting a call. Think about this.”

He took a deep breath and let his fists unclench. “So what would your plan be?”

Carter took her phone out of her pocket and tapped the screen. “Yeah, we heard, Finch.”

A moment of silence and she glanced over at Anthony.

“Ran into an old friend… I'm not sure that'd be such a great idea. Yeah… Yeah… I'll be there,” she put her phone back in her pocket.

“So?”

“I'm going to talk to Finch.”

“That's it?”

The door to the bar creaked open before she could answer, and Cyril walked out and started to look around.

_ God, he already knew this was a bad idea. _

Anthony leaned forward and kissed her. Cyril saw them, and immediately looked away, a mix of embarrassment and disgust painted across his face before anger took over again. The second he started walking in the other direction, Anthony pulled away.

Carter shoved him back and wiped her mouth with her sleeve. “What the hell was that?!”

“A distraction.”

She glanced back at Cyril, walking away, then turned her full attention and anger back to him. “If you try that again, I'll shoot you.”

“Understood, Detective.”

“I'll call Elias if we need you.”

Anthony nodded, albeit grudgingly. He wasn't used to rescue missions, he was more likely to be the one on the other end of it. If they wanted to get the kid back in one piece, maybe it was better to leave it to the guys who were professionals in interfering in other people’s plans. He made a mental note to keep an ear open for news about it; if Cyril turned up alive after this, he wouldn't stay that way for long.

He watched Carter walk back towards her car without another word.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always thought the whole reveal of the Machine to Carter in canon was really underwhelming. Hopefully I've maybe done it a bit more justice.

Another week passed without a call from John or Finch, and Joss had started getting worried again. Didn’t matter what the problem had been in the past, even if they hadn’t told them specifically, she’d always gotten updates. When they were this quiet last year, she’d at least found John loitering at some crime scenes, trying to help out with the investigation somehow. She hadn’t even seen either of them, which felt strange. It had been three years since John came into her life, but when she was hunting the Man in the Suit at the beginning felt like much longer ago.

When Finch finally called her, Joss half expected it to be bad news, that she hadn’t been contacted because something had happened, but no. Business as usual.

“I was hoping you could run a licence plate for me, Detective. The number is-”

“No,” she interrupted.

“What?”

“No, I won’t run it. You don’t get to ignore us for weeks on end with no update on if you’re even alive, then ask me to do something for you. We need to talk.”

Finch hesitated. “We’re talking right now, Detective.”

“Don’t get smart with me, Finch. In person.”

“Fine. I’ll meet you outside the station in half an hour,” he didn’t sound pleased. “Leave your cellphone inside.”

“Okay. What’s the plate number?”

 

-

 

Finch was exactly on time outside the precinct, not that she should have been surprised.

Joss didn’t bother with a greeting. “It's time you told me why you haven't been calling me or Fusco.”

Finch looked up at the security camera on the wall above them. “Let’s walk.”

Joss resisted the urge to roll her eyes but followed him. She’d finally got this close to him telling her something, she didn’t want to push him away now.

“If you didn't notice, Detective, the only thing that stopped you'd from being shot the other night was the appearance of Elias’s henchman. I asked you to get John out of trouble again, and for your trouble you could have been killed. You and Detective Fusco both have children, and I have a feeling our work will only get more dangerous in the future. I can't allow us to be the reason your son loses his mother, or Detective Fusco’s son loses his father.”

“We’ve both been shot at before doing your dirty work.”

Finch shot her an irritated glance. “You know that isn’t what I meant, Detective. You have to realise, while our work has always been dangerous, it’s likely to get even more so in the near future. There's a good reason the only other person who knew my source until recently was Mr Reese. He's legally dead with no living family, no real connections outside of what we do,” Finch paused. “You have a family and a life, a real life, the sort that isn't an option for people like me or John or Miss Shaw, even Root. If I tell you more about that side of our work or let you get any more involved, I can't promise either of you will be safe.”

“I'm a cop, Finch. It's not like I signed up for  _ safe _ .”

He looked at her sharply, and there was pain in that glance more than just physical. “This isn't a decision to be taken so lightly, Detective. People have died to protect our source, good people. Mr Reese and Miss Shaw both lost their partners, their jobs and almost their lives when they stumbled across it.”

“And what about you?”

He blinked a few times. “What?”

“What did you lose?”

He faltered for a second, stopping walking, panic shooting across his features as he realised he’d revealed more than he intended, then sighed, closing his eyes. He seemed older, and more vulnerable than she'd ever seen him. “I lost everything. Everything that mattered, anyway. I'm not pushing you away because we don't want or need your help, I'm encouraging you to think this through. Once you're in our world, there's no turning back.”

“I want to know.”

Finch started walking again, more slowly this time. “I should have known when you started investigating Mr Reese that you wouldn’t be satisfied with our excuses forever.”

Joss raised an eyebrow; a polite ‘no shit’.

“You were in Serbia on 9/11. I was here. Seems like everyone who was here lost somebody when the towers came down,” his voice was tired, swimming in old memories and regrets. “After that, the government needed a mass surveillance system,”

“Like PRISM and StellarWind.”

Finch nodded as best he could. “Exactly. But those only collect the data, they don’t work out what is a threat and what isn’t.”

Joss could feel a knot forming in her stomach. She knew what was coming next now, it didn’t take a genius to work it out, but she prayed to every god in earshot that she was wrong.

“The source of our information is that system,” Joss froze and Finch turned to face her. “I built it.”

“You can’t do that,” she whispered.

“I already did, four years ago in fact,” Finch raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been working with us for two years, detective. All we get is a number, but we, myself, Mr Reese, Detective Fusco and you,” he said with a twitch if an eyebrow, as if she could forget. “Have saved countless lives with it.”

“It’s not right, Finch,” she said, her voice stronger now. “People have rights, you can’t just invade people’s privacy like that.”

“The Machine is a black box, it’s the only thing that can access all that data. The government gets the relevant numbers, the people who could have killed thousands, put the entire nation in danger. We get the irrelevant ones, the people who would kill or be killed without our intervention-”

“You can’t just play god like that!”

“Really, Joss? When you were an interrogator, was that not the same idea? By interrogating one person, you saved hundreds. We may not have the authority or the government paycheck, but it’s same principle.”

“It’s millions of people, Finch.”

“We’re not the only ones trying to do this, and trust me when I tell you that the other party have far less pleasant intentions with what they plan to do with all that information,” he looked at her through the thick lenses of his glasses, calm but frowning. “Like I told you, Detective, once you’re in our world, there’s no turning back. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t share all this with Detective Fusco, but it’s your discretion. I’ll be in contact.”

With that parting remark Finch left her, melting into the crowded street, leaving Joss alone to watch as her entire worldview crumbled in front of her.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has been edited on my phone, so apologies for any errors. I'll check it in the morning.

Joss didn’t go back to work after her conversation with Finch. She sent Fusco a text saying she wasn’t feeling well and went home.

This whole thing was a lot to think about, too much for one person to get their head around (although, Joss guessed bitterly, Finch must have). The moral implications of building something like that, never mind the back door Finch had to have and all the other people who knew. The sheer magnitude of it, the amount of people whose privacy was invaded. How much good had it done? How many attacks that could have happened had been prevented by a tip or a bullet? She knew how many people John and Finch ‘helped out’ first hand, good people, parents, kids even, and those people were irrelevant? Who was he to have decided that? Everything Finch had told her was echoing around her head more and more. Every hint she should have picked up on, every case they’d worked on together…

She was glad that Taylor would be home tonight, even if he would just be sat around playing video games or trying to get some work done on his college applications. She needed not to be alone, for someone to stop her falling too deep into her own thoughts.

Her phone sounded.

She picked it up; a text from Taylor: ‘ _Can I stay at Brad’s tonight?_ ’

Typical. She sent a reply (yes he could, stay safe). It wouldn’t be fair to take this out on him. He shouldn’t have to know about all this, at least not until Joss had worked it out for herself.

She didn’t have all that many other options, though. Fusco wouldn’t ask questions, but she’d already lied to him about being ill, and everyone else from work was the same. Her other friends would ask questions at being invited to her house or out such short notice, questions she couldn’t answer yet, and god knew it wasn’t like she could call John or Shaw or anyone she knew through them. She didn’t want to see anyone of them, couldn’t, not after this.

She scrolled through the contacts on her phone, hoping there was someone she hadn’t thought of and, damn, there was. Of course, there was a very good reason she hadn’t thought about Marconi. They weren’t friends. They weren’t even allies unless one of them had something to gain.

 _Of course_ , a voice at the back of her head supplied, _he also probably wouldn’t be opposed to blowing off some steam…_

Shit, this was a bad idea. A dangerously bad idea.

Joss hated to admit it, even to herself, but that kiss had come back into her mind a lot, always when she was least expecting it. If that was just a distraction, it made her wonder how good a kisser he was when he did mean it. Hell, even if this was just another distraction, maybe that was exactly what she needed right now after the day she’d had.

She’d seen Anthony checking her out the times she’d been down to see Elias, not that he was the only one who did, although he was the only guy who seemed to have so little shame. He wasn’t even the only guy to kiss her recently, even if the time with John had been… different. She guessed, in spite of her jobs, she'd always been kind of into the bad boys, but there was a big difference between a guy with a leather jacket and a reputation like Cal and an actual high-ranking member of the Cosa Nostra. It was the opposite of professional, but she’d been bending her own rules and the law for a couple of years now, even more than she’d thought.

All she had to do was send a text.

He might not even reply.

-

After all the crap they'd gone through with the Five Families a couple years ago, Anthony had known exactly what to expect with HR and the Russians gone, and there was a good reason he'd stocked up on ammo. Didn't matter that the majority of members of both gangs had been locked up or killed, people stayed loyal. It wasn't like he didn't get it; he followed Carl through hell and back, and he would to the end, but it did make rebuilding more difficult. He wiped the blood off his lips with the back of the hand not holding his gun and looked down at the unfortunate bookie on the floor in front of him.

“Please…”

“You got your chance,” Anthony shrugged, and pulled the trigger, double tap, making sure that he was dead. He picked the spent shells up off the floor, then walked over to the open safe on the other side of the room and pushed the money into a duffel bag. Not like they really needed it, it was only a couple of grand, but it was better to make this look like a robbery for the cops. 

It was cold outside, but he wasn’t out in it for long, just long enough to get to the car (stolen, not his own). He’d drop it off at one of their chop shops later. No use letting it go to waste by just torching it. He dropped the duffel in the passenger seat and put the keys in the ignition. He was about to set off when his phone buzzed with a message.

He was expecting something from Elias, who had a near supernatural ability to know what he was doing, maybe asking him how the deal had gone, maybe wondering what he planned to do with the rest of the day, but it was from a number he didn’t recognise. That didn't really bother him too much, enough people in his line of work used disposable cells for an unknown number not to be a big deal, so he opened it.

 _'Hey, it's Carter. You doing anything tonight?_ ’

Anthony caught himself starting to smile, half flattered she’d even kept his number, but dismissed it. Chances were, she just wanted a hand with a case or some extra muscle, or they'd done something that got in the way of one of her cases. Maybe something to do with HR or the Russians she’d missed.

She'd never contacted him like this before though. If it was some kind of emergency or some case she was working with Reese, she'd just turn up at the safe house or call to harass the Boss about it, not send him a text. If it was an emergency to do with Carl, she wouldn't have phrased it like that.

Well. No way of finding out without asking.

' _depends.’_ he typed back. ‘ _what were you thinking_ ’.

As much as he wanted to wait for her reply, he knew it wasn't a good idea to stick around after what he'd just arranged, so he started driving. He was almost back to the safe house before she replied, even with New York traffic. Reluctance, or just hadn't seen the message? Either way she hadn't answered his question, it was just an address and a time.

He checked his watch. Probably enough time to shower the blood off before the time she'd told him. Even if there wasn't he'd risk being a little late to look presentable, and not just because Carter was on a roll taking down two criminal organisations this year he didn't want to give her any extra evidence if it turned out she was going for a third to beat her record. No matter which way this ended up going, at least he'd look good for it. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi I'm H and my I like stretching out something that should rightfully only be one chapter into like... four.

Anthony knew the area of the place Carter had text him to meet her at, but not the specific address. He took the subway and walked the remaining few blocks, half expecting the place to be an empty storefront or something, so he was surprised when it turned out to be a bar, and not one he recognised as being associated with the Russians or any of the local street gangs. It was looking more and more like this evening might not end up with him getting arrested.

It was crowded inside, and he could tell most of them were tourists. Somewhere it was unlikely anyone would recognise either of them, even though Carter’s photo had already made it into the papers and online. A good choice, even if he still wasn't sure why she'd invited him here.

Even with all the people in here, it didn't take him long to spot Carter. She was sat alone at a table in a corner, and god, she looked beautiful. She was always attractive, even in the uniform she’d been so obviously self-conscious about wearing in front of them, but tonight, in that dress, he was surprised she didn't have to beat guys off with a stick. Those didn't look like clothes she’d wear just to arrest someone, just like this wasn't the best place to do it, and last time she’d come to the bar for work she hadn’t been drinking, and that was definitely wine in front of her. His night was looking up already.

 

-

 

It wasn't long after the time they'd agreed to meet, but Joss was already on edge. Half of her had regretted it the second she'd sent that first text, never mind the second, but there was no turning back now. She’d already had enough to drink to keep her from running. He was probably just running a little late, then whatever she'd hoped this would be could happen. If not, and he didn't turn up, well, it wasn't like she hadn't been kind of hoping for that. What the hell had she been thinking, texting Marconi? She was a cop, for god sake, and he was…  _ Walking through the door. _ He was here. Shit.

Even through all the people, she saw him walk in. It wasn't like Anthony exactly towered over anyone, but that confidence of his seemed to split the crowd in front of him. He took a second to spot her, and an unfamiliar kind of grin formed as he looked at her.

He stopped halfway to the table and turned on his heel towards the bar. She briefly wondered if she could make it to the door before he got back, but quickly dismissed it as just too childish. She’d got herself into this, she’d have to get herself out.

It didn't seem to take him long enough to get through the crowd of people jostling for drinks at the bar, only a few minutes before he sat down in the chair opposite hers, placing a glass of wine on the table in front of her, probably a more expensive one than what she was currently drinking, if what he drank around Elias was anything to judge by.

She thought she'd done a good job of hiding her mood, whatever it was; anger, helplessness, betrayal, but he noticed almost immediately.

“If you changed your mind about this, you coulda just said.”

“You noticed?”

He shrugged. “Better at reading people than most people give me credit for, and sometimes shit can't be solved by going out and ignoring your problems, right?”

Joss nodded. “I'm sorry.”

“Don't be,” he shrugged. “If there's anything I can do…” he left it open.

She ignored that he’d asked if there was anything  _ he  _ could do, not just ‘we’. “This problem can't be solved with bullets either. The whole system is broken and I don't know how to fix it.”

“I coulda told you that.”

She almost snorted. “You’re a criminal.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Wouldn’t have to be if your system worked.”

Joss didn’t reply to that. From what she knew about him, he was probably right. The kids society left behind or just straight up ignored, they were enough of a reason that she should have seen how broken her world was years ago, long before Finch’s monster was even a glimmer in its father’s eye.

“Look, you wouldn’t have sent me a message if you wanted to talk about all that. What are we doing here, Carter? Not after another thief, are you?”

Joss finished the dregs of her glass and reached for the one he’d brought her. “Why do you think I asked you to meet me?”

He grinned. “Honestly? Half of me thought you'd only called me to arrest me.”

“Only half?”

He took a sip of his wine, smiling into his glass.

“You still came.”

He shrugged slightly. “Beautiful woman asks you out, you don't refuse.”

“What, couldn’t find a better offer?”

He shrugged, smile falling. “Don't get much time to meet people in this job.”

“Come on, a guy like you?” she teased.

“Always a risk they'll be a plant. HR, the Russians, they all tried that with some of our people,” he raised an eyebrow. “Or they could be a cop.”

“Thank god there's no chance of that with me,” Joss said drily.

“Least with you I know what I’m in for.”

Joss leaned towards him and smiled. “Oh, you've got no idea.”

“That’s what this is?” Anthony frowned and leaned back. “As much as I’m gonna regret saying this, Joss, not tonight.”

“What?”

“You got a lot on your mind, you’ve had a few drinks. You ain’t gonna thank me in the morning if I let this happen.”

She raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t expect you to be such a gentleman.”

If that stung, he didn’t let it show. He was a criminal, and he’d never pretended to be anything else.

He tilted his head with an unreadable expression. “Course, if you’re just looking for a way to blow off steam, I might’ve got another idea.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait. Real life stuff. Hope you enjoy the chapter!

“Laser tag? Seriously?” she raised an eyebrow at him as she got out of the car.

Anthony grinned. “Changed your mind already, Carter? Or just scared you're gonna lose?”

“Just rethinking my life choices.” In more ways than he could know.

“Made it this far. Aren’t you gonna trust me?”

“With this? Maybe.” With anything else? No way in hell. Although maybe he had been proving himself more trustworthy than she’d first thought recently.

He looked all too pleased with himself. “Good enough for me.”

He held the door open for her to go inside ahead of him. Joss rolled her eyes as she walked past and let him go up to the desk to pay for both of them, looking increasingly smug as she continued to go along with his idea. The teenager behind the desk didn't look surprised at them being there, just passed two sets of armour and two laser guns over the desk and directed them to the locker room to put away any stuff they didn't need.

As it turned out that they weren't the only adults in there, but they were probably the oldest, not that Anthony seemed to mind either way. He pulled the chestplate over his head, and Joss tried not to stare too obviously at the patch of skin briefly exposed between his shirt and jeans. She didn't want to stoop to his level of overt leering.

If he noticed, he didn't mention it, just waited for her to put her own on (over her dress… god, this was a terrible idea).

She let him walk out of the locker room first, since he seemed to know where he was going better than she did.

The walls inside were lined with old mattresses and there were obstacles and cover built from what looked a hell of a lot like bits of wood and thrift store furniture. Everything was sprayed silver or black with vaguely sci-fi looking patterns that glowed in the UV light. It was almost exactly the same as the place she remembered taking Taylor to for his thirteenth birthday.

Right now it was silent, but she knew that wouldn't last. Anthony grinned at her and the lights went down then chaos. Sirens sounded from hidden speakers across the room and strobe lighting turned the obstacles into something unfamiliar. For a second she was too shocked to move, then a hit appeared on the circle on her chest. She looked up, but Anthony had already disappeared into the maze of obstacles.

“Son of a bitch,” she muttered, mostly to herself, then ran out from where they'd entered into the fray.

Even under the blinding lights she could see that the majority of the players were in their mid-teens to mid twenties. There were a couple of guys a little older than that, maybe there for some kind of office team building thing.

Her sights found targets easily, a reflex after years carrying a gun daily, especially with the number of gun fights she’d ended up in in the last three years. Sometimes she heard cursing, but mostly she moved on too quickly to see their reaction. Other than the first shot from Anthony, nobody had even got close to catching her. Good. Even tipsy she could outshoot everyone in here.

She didn’t see Anthony again until halfway through the session they paid for, leaning against a wall in a dark corner, rubbing one shoulder. He didn’t even notice she was there until she’d already shot him.

“Hey!”

“Consider it payback.”

He rolled his eyes but nodded. “Feel better now?”

“Maybe a little,” she said. “How come you know this place anyway?”

Anthony shrugged, suddenly unable to meet her eyes. “After I got shot last year, I wanted to get some practice shootouts in before I got in any more real ones, make sure I was still up to it.”

“That why you’re hiding here, not out there?”

He nodded and she reached for his hand.

“You got hurt. Nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Meant I couldn’t help when they went after the Boss. I meant it when I thanked you. I was still out cold when you saved his ass.”

“It was the right thing to do.”

“Now you know why I like you, Carter-” he started to smile, then there was the flash of a hit on his chest, then hers. “Who the-”

There was a girl stood in front of them. She couldn’t have been more than fourteen, with curly blonde hair tied out of her face and an evil grin on her otherwise innocent face. Anthony stopped before he could swear at her, but she was gone before either of them got chance to shoot back.

He turned back to Joss. “Did we just get owned by a middle-schooler?”

“Looks that way.” She smiled at him, and he almost got chance to grin before she shot him again, turning to run before he realised what was happening.

“Now I feel better!” she called out over her shoulder as she heard him cursing.

* * *

Anthony found her out in the lobby when it was over. Everybody else was already gone, including the kid, looking very pleased with the certificate they’d given her for getting more hits in and taking less than anyone else. She let him catch up then started towards the door.

“So?”

“Maybe it worked, and you were right, I would’ve regretted… the other thing,” Joss admitted, then grinned. “Those were some easy shots, Marconi.”

“You enjoyed shooting me way too much.”

“What, embarrassed that even a drunk cop can beat you?”

“I let you win,” he muttered. “Anyway, that kid beat both of us. Half of me wants to recruit her.”

“God, don't remind me. What was she, like thirteen? But she could shoot straighter than half my department.”

He glanced over at her with a sharp grin. “What, Homicide got more than just you and Fusco now?”

“You can talk. If anyone on your crew could shoot I’d be dead already.”

If she thought he was going to take offence she was wrong. He laughed, an actual laugh, not just a smirk or a snort, a sound she hadn’t heard before, but suddenly found herself wanting to hear again. “Where you heading now?”

“Home. I skipped out of work earlier, I can’t call in sick again tomorrow.”

“Guess there’s no point offering to take care of it?”

“Trust me, if this was something that you and your Boss could deal with, I’d almost be tempted.”

Anthony hesitated for a second. “Need a ride?”

“And tell you where I live?”

“Least let me take you back to your car.”

“There you go, tryna be a gentleman again. I can get a cab,” she said, stepping to the edge of the curb as one approached.

“Ever want to do this again, you got my number,” he said with a shrug, and turned towards his car.

The cab pulled up by the pavement. Last chance.

Joss reached for his hand and pulled him back to her.

He didn’t seem to know how to react to that, frozen in front of her. She took a step forward, close enough to feel his breath on her lips.

“Thank you,” she said softly, and leaned in the final distance to kiss him. He finally unfroze, raising the hand that she didn’t still hold to the back of her head, running his fingers through her hair. He tasted of cigarettes and sin, the kind that made her stifle a moan. She could feel him smiling until she nipped his bottom lip with her teeth. She'd been right after the last time they kissed; when it wasn't just a distraction, he was a damn good kisser. The night might not have gone how she expected, but maybe this was better.

When she finally pulled away, he tried to follow her back, eyes still closed.

“You’re right. I got your number,” she smiled, and got in the cab, watching him stood frozen on the sidewalk with a bemused smile on his face as the car pulled away.


End file.
